


Horizon

by m_class



Series: 007 Fest 2019 Angst Prompt Table [9]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012)
Genre: Angst Prompt Table 2019 - Identity, Gen, Introspection, Ocean, Severine Lives, Severine-centric, Trauma Recovery, references to past sexual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 17:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20067712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_class/pseuds/m_class
Summary: Sévérine isn't yet used to having time to herself, with no one to fear and nowhere she needs to be.





	Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> In a bit of cross-fandom inspiration, this vignette was partially inspired by [this Star Trek art](https://flo-n-flon.tumblr.com/post/186147323332/how-many-seas-must-a-white-dove-sail-before-she) by Radiolaria (flo-n-flon on tumblr).
> 
> Each prompt fic can be read as a stand-alone or as part of the series in order.  
  
This fic is a fairly direct sequel to prompt fic #1, [Somewhere Far From Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063464).

Sévérine stands at the edge of the ocean, feet planted in the warm sand, watching the water. 

She still isn’t used to this. Air and sea and sky all around her. Nowhere to be; no one expecting her. No one’s anger, rising each second she spends gazing out at the waves, giving nothing to anyone.

Her hand rises to her right ear, absently fiddling with one of her earrings. It’s the first time she’s worn earrings in a while, a simple pair she picked up at a chain department store where revolving displays of mainstream jewelry spun under her hands, reflecting off the shiny tile floor. Silver droplets, $22.99. She isn’t sure, yet, whether she likes them or not, or whether she’ll go back to going without. But her outfit this morning went well with silver, jeans and a soft grey v-neck t-shirt, and the droplets seemed fitting enough for a day by the sea.

Dropping her hand, she rubs a thumb across the mark on the inside of her wrist. She hasn’t decided yet whether to get it taken off, if she can. She hasn’t decided yet whether getting rid of it would be a needless or hollow gesture--or whether, if it is a needless or hollow gesture, whether she might deserve to give herself that gesture, nonetheless. 

She hasn’t decided yet.

Slowly, Sévérine bends down to the beach bag resting by her feet, pulling out the neon-bright towel bought during another trip to another soothingly boring department store and spreading it over the sand. Lowering herself carefully onto the towel, she crosses her legs and rests her chin on one hand, staring out at the waves. 

The ocean is a calm blue, the air full of the scents of salt and seaweed and water. Distantly, a gull calls, but near her, all is quiet except for the lapping of the surf.

Her hands drift to the sun-warmed sand, and she runs her fingertips through the soft grains as she casts a glance, instinctively, behind her. It feels strange, to be here with no one watching; no one to fear and no one to please.

She lets the sand run through her fingers. It could be sand through an hourglass, marking time, but she has nothing to do today; nowhere else she needs to be. The sun shimmers against the waves, and Sévérine smiles, rubbing the sand dust from her fingers onto the towel and gazing out at the horizon.

She has time.


End file.
